


nothing like doubt

by tackypanda



Series: wasted beauty [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Body Image, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 16:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5934814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tackypanda/pseuds/tackypanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wasteland, a fat woman is either reviled or revered. She wasn't a fan of either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing like doubt

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by all the companion headcanons that seem to agree that hancock would be *very* grabby while cuddling and my insatiable need for explicitly fat protagonists lol

Gemma was fat. It wasn’t a dirty word, merely a fact. She was fat ever since her childhood, and given she ate well and barely exercised even when she was a struggling law student, she would be for the rest of her life. It wasn’t common outside her family, however; boy, did others _love_  to make that known to her.  _“Oh honey, you’ll never get a husband looking like that, he’ll think you’re already pregnant,”_ was the favorite of all the comments she’d heard over the years; she couldn’t even really remember how she replied, didn’t care enough to, but she at least remembered how scandalized the girl looked.

Bottom line, she had more to worry about than feeling ashamed for what she looked like. She had peace to fight for, a handsome boyfriend who saw her naked and still fucked her like she was the first drink of water after traversing a desert (and given what he’d been through in the military, the comparison wasn’t far off), a future to consider. Having a baby out of nowhere didn’t help her figure any, but again, bigger problems. Not even a problem - not really. 

The snide comments had certainly stopped after she had Shaun now that everything she had been carrying for years was suddenly ‘baby weight’. She almost missed them, if only because it gave her an excuse to be rude right back. She and her husband hadn’t had sex since before he was born, but that was just because they seemed to disagree on everything now. Sometimes she wished it was because of a more petty reason like her weight - it would have been easier to hammer sense into him.

But none of that mattered now, 210 years later. The Commonwealth was lacking in fat women, not because those women were too ashamed of how they looked to be seen frequently, but because there just _weren’t_  really any. People could still be rude about it, and there was certainly a lack of clothing and practical armor that fit, but more of them were astounded that she managed to keep herself so well-fed in a world like this. She honestly wasn’t sure if she preferred this ‘positive’ scrutiny or the negative kind more. All the same, lack of self-confidence certainly wasn’t hindering her from finding companionship again, and her and Hancock all but fell into courtship after a whirlwind adventure of drugs, gunshot wounds in sensitive places, freedom fighting, and snarky jokes that accidentally turned genuinely flirtatious.

It hadn’t occurred to her that anything about it might be wrong, at first.

They didn’t actually get to _be_  together until two nights after they confessed their feelings, when they made it back to a room in the Hotel Rexford in Goodneighbor after attempting to comfortably huddle together in one sleeping bag for too long. Now they had a bed, couches, and most importantly, walls and a closed door. She had barely just set all her stuff down on the floor before he came up behind her and started getting grabby.

“Shit, relax a minute.” She released herself from him to shove their stuff in their nearest corner.

He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s only doable with you or if we dip into the chem stock.”

“You can wait _one_  damn minute while I get situated.” She bent down to rifle through her things for an inventory check, although it wasn’t like her stuff was going anywhere. Her stomach rumbled, and after briefly wondering if she should have another snack even though she had eaten just two hours before, her attention was suddenly drawn to her current attire. The standard - the ridiculous harness she got off a Gunner corpse that she usually covered with a thick metal chest piece, sensible boots, metal plates on her legs, her pip boy.

Only she _wasn’t_  wearing the chest piece, she was wearing the bomber jacket she loved so much, unzipped. She’d been running around with her gut hanging out in the name of whatever free spirited hippie beliefs that sounded like bullshit to her right now. It was dangerous and-- god, it was disgusting, wasn’t it? This was disgusting and she had been going around like this the whole time holy _shit._

“Not that I’m all that aware of the passage of time anymore, but I’m pretty sure it’s been more than a minute, Gem.” He smirked at her from the edge of the bed where he sat fully clothed, sans hat. Okay, well at least he wasn’t rushing, not yet. She zipped up the jacket and grabbed a box of snack cakes, holding it to her chest like a shield as she got back up and turned around. 

“I’m hungry,” she announced, a bit forced. “And cold.” She practically launched herself onto the bed before she could stand there and think any harder about this influx of negativity (or truth, but they did often go hand in hand). She felt him lay down next to her, his chuckle coming from deep in his chest and sounding _far_  too appealing for the situation at hand. She just kept her focus on the snack cakes, reaching in before looking down at the lumps under the coat and throwing the box aside.

“You can’t be _that_  hungry if you’re tossin’ the food away.” He grinned at her, attempting to take her into his arms. “I can help with the cold, though. Definitely.”

He pulled her back against him, spooning her snugly, and she found herself both surprised and pleased - even if this was just the prelude to sex, maybe this would help her feel more comfortable again. At least, until his hand went right to the zipper of the jacket and started to pull it down. She managed not to stiffen, but her mind became an indecipherable stream of ‘why’ and ‘no’ and ‘fuck’. Not that she _didn’t_  want him to, even just the pressure of his arm wrapped around her was a comfort she didn’t know she could attain so simply, it just-- _fuck_.

She made a grab for the box again just as his hand found her breast, and of all the ways she could have responded, she snorted. “You couldn’t wait until this... ugh, _contraption’s_ off?”

“I’m workin’ on it.” She felt his teeth scrape against the tip of her ear as he spoke, chuckling and pressing a kiss to the skin as she shivered. His other hand snaked around her waist, splaying his fingers over her rib cage. Not a moment passed before he squeezed her side, and panic rose like bile in her throat as his hand moved down her torso. The texture of his gnarled fingers felt pronounced on her sensitive skin, but she hoped that he wouldn’t assume his own appearance was the cause of her stiffening and twitching. Heh; now they were _both_  self-conscious wrecks, that was sure to make for a fulfilling relationship.

His fingers slipped under the waistband of her pants, kneading into the pudgy mound of flesh at the base of her stomach. She froze completely, nearly shoving him off her were it not for the contented sigh that escaped his lips.

“You’re just... you’re _somethin’_ , you know that?” He finally moved his hand from her breast to her face, cupping her cheek. “Like a goddamn breath of fresh air.”

She rose a brow, acutely aware of how his fingers were trailing back up her side. “Huh?”

He snorted. “Yeah, I know, overused. I’m tryin’ hard not to be _too_  sappy, believe it or not, you just bring that out in me.”

She shook her head. “Yeah yeah, but-- what are you even talking about, my body or my personality?”

He chuckled. “If I was talkin’ about your personality, I’d say it’s more of a gust of that kinda _overly_ fresh air that’s just too much all at once.” He braced himself for the inevitable slap to the arm, but it wasn’t enough to take the smile off his face. “You’re just... you’re so _soft_ , Gem. I didn’t even sleep on a fucking bed in the state house - couch, floor, wherever I ended up. It was all hard edges for me, y’know? My life and all-- ah, fuck, that’s not what this is about anyway.

“Still can’t believe I first met you after I just stabbed Finn and you got shot in the tit, but... not to sound like a lech or anything, but _fuck_ if I didn’t want you from that moment on. You were delusional and every word outta your mouth was _still_ biting or funny as hell. I just thought-- you coulda been shouting but if I just got to hold you then everything woulda been alright. Most importantly, I could use you as a mattress for a while.”

She smirked despite herself, scooting away and turning over to face him. “That was a clunky speech.” She reached out to touch his throat before he snatched her hand up. “So... you mean all that?”

He scoffed, squeezing her side. “Wouldn’t’ve said it if I didn’t. Made a fool of myself.” Her rubbed his thumb over her skin. “Why? Somethin’ wrong?”

She debated just trying to move and keep the pace, but something like this would only fester and cause problems down the line. “Wasn’t feeling too good about being an ideal mattress before, is all.” That _wasn’t_  all, and she just kept on talking before she could stop herself. “Not that I ever _cared_ , but pre-war it was all ‘thin women are the ideal and if you’re not thin here’s a gazillion ways for you to get thin and if you’re still not thin we’ll make you feel like shit for it’. Now here it’s like... it’s different? I still feel like people are judging me for it, but it’s mixed now - some people still think I’m gross, others put me up on a pedestal like ‘oh my _god_ a woman who’s actually eaten well in this hellhole it’s a miracle’. Always thought I’d relish in the second reaction, but fuck, I hate both.”

She huffed, pulling her hand out of his grasp. “And I _know_  you just basically said I’m beautiful and great and all that, but I still... I-- it’s just been a while. And it had been a while _before_  I met my husband, too. I’m so inexperienced in this when it comes down to it. S’all fun and games to fall in love but getting to the physical aspects... ugh. Any self-confidence I built for myself flies out the window and suddenly I’m just gross and scared.”

She dared a look at him, watching him blink as he ran his free hand over his face. “And that’s why you’ve been twitchy this whole time?”

“You noticed that, huh? Damn.”

“Gem, _love_.” That got a smile at least; the endearment always sounded so strange coming out of his mouth, but not unwelcome. “I’m sorry for callin’ you a mattress. And ’gross’ is something you should never be fuckin’ described as. _Maybe_  when you’re bleeding out of your tit, but never otherwise.” Despite the humor, she could tell there was a ‘me on the other hand’ hanging from the tip of his tongue; he must have been mustering up a lot of restraint not to say it or deflect it with a self-deprecating joke. She ran her fingers down his cheek to distract him, and for a moment, it made her forget about her own insecurities.

“That the best you got?” She said, smirking despite herself.

He narrowed his eyes at her playfully. “Pff, has this all been one big set up so you’d have an excuse to fish for compliments?”

“I wish I was that good at acting.” She sighed, tugging on the collar of his shirt. “In all seriousness, though - somewhere in my mind, I _know_  I look great. But right now I just... I dunno, I need some reassurance. Everyone does sometimes, right? I know you do.” She poked him in the ribs before he caught her hand again, intertwining their fingers as his eyes lingered on the tattoos on her throat.

“Yeah...” He dove right in and pressed his lips to the crook of her neck, drawing a sigh from her as she settled back against the mattress. He pulled away reluctantly, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, that prolly didn’t count.” She merely shrugged, and he shook his head. “Anyway-- let’s see if I can avoid puttin’ my damn foot in my mouth. You’re really the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a long time - person, force of nature, all of it. You’re it for me - how you look, how you think, how you talk, how you’ve kicked my ass into gear.” His fingers traced the lines of her tattoos, trailing down her chest and stomach, lingering on the strip of fabric right above her belly button. “That help?”

She let out a shaky breath; dammit, she was actually _moved_  by all that. She pulled him down to trail kisses along his cheekbone, holding the back of his head. “You’re it for me, too. Gonna have to give me a bit longer to make a fancy speech for you, it’d be mostly tearful Spanish right now.”

She felt him smile against her jaw, moving to kiss her intently and squeeze her hip. “I’d love it either way.”

“Yeah, well, be patient; we’ve got other stuff to do.”


End file.
